1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave
9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb
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